Chapter Text
Daryl took off his glove and stuck his hand into the soft fallen snow. It was the first snow he’d ever experienced and he shrieked at the cold fluff against his bare hand, shaking it off, and shoving his fingers quickly back into his glove. He and Rick were on vacation up north, specifically because Rick wanted to teach him about snow and bundling up in blankets by the fireplace as the smell of the burning wood tangled with the sweet scent of hot chocolates.
He was excited to feel snow, to understand it, to experience real cold and the pleasure of getting warm again by going back inside and cuddling under a thick plush blanket. What he didn’t like about winter was how restricted they were with communication because gloves were too cumbersome to sign with. He would always have limitations. He knew that.
After they built a snowman, they sat on the couch of their rented cabin. Daryl could feel the heat of the fireplace before them, the scent of the white oak, thick and rich, the subtle aroma of vanilla.
Connie was his permanent teacher at the moment and had been for the past year and he’d learned a lot from her. A lot of facts and figures and places...a lot of things. But Rick, who was now officially his boyfriend and very much not his teacher, still taught him more about the abstract stuff. Like love and hope and promise and trust. And colors.
The color yellow was bright like the sun. It was surprising, like the taste of lemon. Brown smelled of freshly cut wood and earth and felt like the rough bark of tree limbs. Pink tasted like sugar and candy and felt like the soft silk of flower petals. Green felt like grass and leaves and it smelled fresh and alive...like summer. Purple was celebration. It smelled like violets and grape juice and it felt like the luxury of velvet against Daryl’s fingers. Red was the color of heat, of the flames that licked at the wood in front of them. Red was bold and brazen like the hot taste of chili peppers on his tongue. But Daryl’s favorite color was blue. Blue was the color of the ocean and the sky. It felt like the breeze against his skin and it smelled like fresh air, like peace and pleasure and serenity. It was like grace and hope and heaven. Like the feel of Rick’s blue eyes gazing on him, comfortable and whole.
Daryl supposed he didn’t know enough about actually hearing or seeing, so he didn’t feel as cheated by his limitations as Rick and Merle probably thought he did. He was mostly thankful for what he did have. The smell of Rick’s soap-clean skin when he’d trail kisses down his chest. The taste of the fresh mint leaves from their garden. The rumble of Rick’s snores he could feel when he rested his head on the other man’s chest. The feel of his lover’s body against his own, skin against skin, and the feeling of becoming one. The way his heart beat -- powerful and strong when they kissed, and lulling and peaceful when they laid together after.
Daryl knew he had an enhanced sense of smell and taste because he was shorted so many of his senses. But he often wondered if he also had an enhanced ability to love, because the way he gravitated to Rick’s affection, to his warmth and his words and his aura...it felt so strong and real it was almost solid. The way Daryl felt Rick in his heart? It was all encompassing. It was vast like the ocean. It was deep and warm. He felt Rick running through his veins like blood.
Sometimes he worried. Worried that he wasn’t enough for Rick, that his limitations were cheating Rick out of being able to talk with a lover, to be seen by them, to hold a loving gaze. But any time he’d expressed those concerns, Rick had a way of convincing him easily why he never once felt cheated at all. And it didn’t take signed words or for Daryl to rest his fingers over Rick’s lips and jaw to feel the words as he said them. All it took was Rick’s hands on his skin, the feel of strength in his arms as he held Daryl close. Rick always made Daryl feel loved and not just because he felt like he should or like he went out of his way to do it. He made Daryl feel loved simply because Rick loved him. And Daryl could feel that as sure as the ground beneath his feet.
Their relationship grew and changed every day. There had been a time when Daryl was so innocent and pure. So dependent on Rick. But as they’d lived together and grown together, he’d learned that Rick could be the vulnerable one, that he could allow Daryl to be the one doing the heavy lifting. Like when Rick had fallen to his knees before Daryl, his head resting on his lover’s knee as he sobbed when his mother had passed. Sometimes Daryl was the rock. Like when Rick would grip his hand when a plane lifted off the tarmac or when a roller coaster crested the top of a hill as if he was trying to borrow the younger man’s strength and fearlessness. Daryl could know what Rick needed just by the feel of his slouch on the sofa after a long, hard day.
Rick had always worried about Daryl being ready to love him. Being experienced enough. Worldly. Self-aware. And though Daryl had hated it at the beginning, he did understand. He had learned a lot about himself in the time that Rick insisted they give each other. He learned that love wasn’t always fun. Sometimes it hurt. Sometimes it was hard. But it was always, always worth it.
As it turned out, Daryl made a great boyfriend. And not too bad of a brother, either. And soon he was going to make a great uncle. Merle and Carol lived only a few houses away so he could walk there with Blue and not even need to rely on anyone for a ride. He could “see” the room that was ready for his coming niece. All pink like candy and flower petals, decorated with stuffed dogs. One that looked like Blue and some that were actually pink and purple. There was a crib and a changing table and a rocker in the corner. And if you felt along the walls over the crib you could feel the letters that spelled out Sophia. She would be here any day now.
Merle and Carol had learned the modified sign language Daryl used, so sitting around talking about when the baby was going to come and how excited they were was easy. It was like...it was like he was real. He remembered not feeling real. It was only a couple years ago, but it seemed like a faraway time and a distant land.
He’d had Merle. He always had Merle. But he had mostly just been a set of hands to guide him to the kitchen table, or give him a bath, or try to hug him when he was angry. He liked having Merle around him, but he didn’t really even know what the other man was to him in the cave days. He called them the cave days because Connie taught him about Plato and the Allegory of the Cave. And he learned. He learned that Merle was a brother, that pa was dead and that he didn’t have to be afraid anymore. He learned that he could control his tantrums by learning to communicate and by getting Blue. He learned how feelings worked, how touches felt, and how falling in love was the sweetest sensation he’d ever known.
Daryl had lessons with Connie five mornings a week. He worked with Shane and the dogs each afternoon. But weekends and evenings...those were for Rick. Always for Rick.
They walked Blue through the neighborhood every night. They stopped and talked to the neighbors as they went. Blue was always so happy on those walks, especially when they stopped to chat at the house on the corner, where a poodle named Juliet lived.
They also spent evenings in their big backyard working on the garden they planted and tended to themselves. Daryl’s digging through dirt for rocks had made him quite good at working with the earth. It turned out that he had a green thumb.
At night when they went to bed, they communicated with their touches. Soft lips against strong muscles, fingers caressing thighs, foreheads touching as they breathed one another’s breaths. Rick said they had a better sex life than anyone else on the planet because they didn’t spend their evenings watching TV. And he’d always playfully tease Daryl for being insatiable. But Daryl couldn’t help it. Being physical with Rick made him feel so alive. Hearts thudding, gentle touches, Rick’s scent, and the sweet taste of his lips, the tangle of arms and legs.
He would never know what it was like to see or hear, but he would always know how to live and love. And really - wasn’t that the more important thing?
That night, after Rick fell asleep in his arms, Daryl made a decision. When he woke up in the morning, he would walk over to Merle’s and ask his big brother to come with him to the mall. He was going to buy something he’d need help picking out.